Ezra Furman – ‘Goodbye Small Head’ album review: Searing defiance in a crumbling society
THE SKINNY: Everything is pouring out of Ezra Furman like a snowstorm, urgently, violently, and impossible to control. Nestled within the flakes and flurries of old thoughts and new discoveries, Goodbye Small Head pulls you in and wraps you up with swirling force, evoking the kind of chaotic beauty where shapes appear fragile, intermittently within our control, and beautifully distinct, like the fleeting clarity of snow angels.
Or, as Furman sings in ‘Slow Burn’, “Angels are shapes that we made in the snow”. As mystical and magical as these metaphors appear—and sound throughout the entire record—their possibility of their beauty stems from the messiness of losing complete control and the shifting contexts in which that progresses. Whether, as Furman says, through “weakness, illness, mysticism, BDSM, drugs, heartbreak or just living in a sick society with one’s eyes open,” this concoction powers the explosiveness of the record, biting back in spite of disorder and in the throes of pleasure.
From start to finish, Furman allows the glistens of her heart to fall outward, rife with abundant charms that speak to humanity’s inherent flaws, though laced with the kind of fervour that beckons to break free from the opinions, categories, and labels that seek to hold it back. Furman insists this isn’t a record about falling apart but a journey in letting it all go, like finding liberation in disaster, but only by facing it all head-on, armed with the flames of a mind that’s finally ready to peer on the other side.
Perhaps that’s the overarching magic of Goodbye Small Head. It doesn’t confine itself to being one thing, nor does it try to simplify self-discovery, rage, joy, sadness, despair, or desire in meaningless ways. Sometimes, all of these coincide, providing a glimpse into a mind troubled yet free, resigned to the perils of modern society but defiant by nature, and unwavering in the face of struggle.
Or, as Furman explained: “Is it dark? Yeah! Is it also wonder-struck, laced with psychedelic beauty, triumphant in its wounded way? Yeah again. And by the end of it, the whole thing flames out in a burst of good old-fashioned rock and roll.”
For fans of: music that cuts deep.
A concluding comment from a record store owner: “Sounds like everything all at once.”
Goodbye Small Head track by track:
Release date: May 16th | Producer: Brian Deck | Label: Bella Union
‘Grand Mal’: Inspired by a specific dissociative mental state, ‘Grand Mal’ exists somewhere floaty yet grounded, like the mysticism of barely-awake dreaming or the “shiver” along the oceanic coast and all its unpredictable relaxation. [3/5]
‘Sudden Storm’: With similar themes to the opening track, ‘Sudden Storm’ explores distortion with a grittier edge, creating a version of detached solemnity rooted in a more charged and purposeful movement. [3.5/5]
‘Jump Out’: Reflecting the panic of being unable to remove yourself from a situation you desperately want to leave, ‘Jump Out’ emerges with a fighting urgency that commands attention, even in its unsettling and underlying paranoid state. [3.5/5]
‘Power of the Moon’: Fun and uplifting in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way, ‘Power of the Moon’ waves its fist at the powers that be, energised by the broader distrust and disillusionment embedded deep within those existing in modern society. [4/5]
‘You Mustn’t Show Weakness’: Tackling image and self-discovery, ‘You Mustn’t Show Weakness’ navigates the perils of weakness itself, with Furman’s feverish vocal delivery evoking the kind of frustration experienced by anybody who has ever felt less than, whether due to the views of others or society at large. [4/5]
‘Submission’: Inspired by “the combination of dread and relief felt when you realise the long-suffering
good guys have no chance against 21st-century forces of evil,” ‘Submission’ is a force that feels at once like countless other greats and like nothing else at all—radiating a glistening authenticity that’s everything you could hope for. [4.5/5]
‘Veil Song’: Executed with a subtle folk-like sway, ‘Veil Song’ feels kitschy at its core, though in a way that enhances the track’s vulnerability, making it feel like a gentle, softly spoken whisper or confession. [4/5]
‘Slow Burn’: Furman’s hypnotically raw vocal delivery carries ‘Slow Burn’ forward, maintaining a defiant tonality throughout that pushes her endless fight to express, against any resistance. [3.5/5]
‘You Hurt Me I Hate You’: With a meticulously constructed ethereal arrangement, ‘You Hurt Me I Hate You’ is as tragic as empowered, enhanced by the unshakable feeling that Furman is consistently on the edge of completely falling apart. [3.5/5]
‘Strange Girl’: The overarching sense of foreboding feels sinister and seductive throughout ‘Strange Girl’, like a silhouette in the night, followed by the ghosts seeking control. [3.5/5]
‘A World of Love and Care’: The theatricality of ‘A World of Love and Care’ is undeniably the most gripping aspect of the song, uplifting its underlying rage and desperate plea for a better tomorrow. [4/5]
‘I Need the Angel’: This heart-thumping cover of Alex Walton’s tune fits the broader commanding atmosphere of the record, spotlighting the effortless finesse of Furman’s voice, ending the album on a note that sounds inexplicably close to a reckoning. [4/5]
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